


Abelas

by syrenhug



Series: Dareth Shiral [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Because there's still mages, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, but not really??, the fenris/hawke is so tiny because this is just the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke can’t breathe without feeling like they’re going to be caught. Like the templars will know that sometimes they dream of people dying and demons asking him if they have needs, have wants that only can be fulfilled in the Fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abelas

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about 3 or 4 hours and I was pretty sad at the beginning of it and then I started to feel a bit better because I was writing it all out. I think the concept is pretty recognizable so I'm not going to state it outright, make of it what you will.
> 
> There will be a second part at some point where they are older and it will follow a bit of canon but since they met when they were younger it's already an AU. 
> 
> my tumblr is syrenhug.tumblr.com if you want to cry with me (about aveline/isabela)
> 
> I think that's it. enjoy.

When Hawke is twelve, their father dies. Mother cries and cries and cries. Carver breaks all the plates and Bethany is young enough to sob and feel no shame for it.

"Why?” Their brother asks. Once, five, then ten times until he is hoarse and they can’t look at his face any longer.

“They were afraid of him. Of his magic.”

Carver curls his fists until Hawke can see the indents in his little palms. “That doesn’t make any sense! Father never hurt anybody.”

“No,” Mother says. “Some people are just afraid of the possibility of being afraid.”

"That doesn’t make any sense.” Their brother repeats, and you agree.

“It doesn’t, but death never does.”

* * *

 Anders says things like, “Mages should be free.” and doesn’t care who hears.

Hawke can’t breathe without feeling like they’re going to be caught. Like the templars will know that sometimes they dream of people dying and demons asking him if they have needs, have wants that only can be fulfilled in the Fade.

 _Take this sickness out of me,_ they want to ask _. Make me normal. Make me new._

Anders tells them that there’s nothing wrong with magic. And Hawke wants that conviction, that sureness of deserving something better. Maybe it died with his father. Maybe it was never there. **  
**

* * *

Isabela wears heels and short skirts to school everyday. Aveline rolls her eyes and mutters, “Whore.”

“Only for you.” She leers, silently asking Hawke to move down the bench with a cute wave of her hand.

“I think you look lovely today, Isa!” Merrill smiles and it’s so kind that Hawke stops breathing for a second. Even Aveline looks a bit chastised.

“Thank you, my dear. Where’s our lovely mage rights activist today?”

Varric, who was doing his homework on the ground, laughs as Anders stumbles out of the D hallway door into the quad. “Speak of the devil.”

“Guess what?”

Merrill guesses, “Kittens.”

“I wish.”

“You're getting rid of that horrible headband?”

“No, “ Anders answers then pouts. “Hey! I like this headband.”

Isabela smirks around the tip of the pen in her mouth. “And that’s really cute.”

“Anyway,” Aveline glares at Isabela when she mouths _jealous_.

“I’m getting someone to teach me more spirit magic.”

Everyone groans. Varric asks, “Is this that old dude Karl you’ve panting about?”

“No! I mean, yes! But I have not been panting over him. Hawke, have I been panting over him?”

They pointedly write the number one on their blank sheet of paper.

“Ugh, I’m leaving, I hate you all.”

“Remember to wear a condom.” Isabela shouts as he leaves and Anders slams the door.

“Well.” Varric states.

"Yeah." Aveline comments.

* * *

Ever since they were a child, everyone has always told them to stop worrying. Stop being so afraid.

“It’ll be okay, bird.” Father had said before he’d been taken to the Circle. His eyes had been bright with tears, laugh lines never finding their landing place. “What have I always said?”

“They can use our magic, but they can never really take it away.”

Father had kissed their forehead. “Good one.”

But, when they are old enough to learn what has really become of their father, they know that even though the templars can’t take away their magic, they can bend and break it until they're begging to be emptied of it.

Tranquil, they say.

Dead, their family calls it.

* * *

Fenris moves into their neighborhood in the middle of junior year. He sports a faded skeleton hoodie and white slashes that run down his neck.

Isabela whispers in third period, “I heard he lived in Tevinter as a slave.The magisters obviously weren’t kind to him which is how he got his lyrium burns.”

“Isabela.” They frown. It’s awful and also not any of their business.

“What? I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“So? It’s not nice to gossip about things like this.”

“You’re no fun.” But she softens, holding out one of her gummy worms. “Trade you the answer to number five for a red one?”

* * *

 "Carver hates me.”

They look up. Bethany is trembling, made glistening by the toned lighting in the room. Hawke opens their arms.

Their sister has always been a tiny one, something easily fit into the nooks of their house, of their family. Carver wrinkled his nose and said _ew_ after the bathroom had been cleaned and any evidence of a something being born had been wiped away with a cloth.

They asked, “What if I hurt her?”

And their parents shook their heads. “You won’t.”

So Hawke made it their mission not to. When Bethany fell and hurt herself, they were the first one there to fix it. The first one to defend and keep silent. To take the blame with Carver.

“He said that I’m the reason he can’t have friends over. And that I’m not normal.”

“You’re perfect.” They say and hug Bethany tighter, hands in her short black hair. “He’s just upset. People say mean things when they’re mad.”

Bethany tilts her head back and looks sad. “He must always be mad cause he always says mean things.”

Hawke doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Don’t worry about him, darling. None of this is your fault. Things will be okay eventually.”

“I believe you.” She laughs. “You never break your promises.”

* * *

Hawke prays. Prays to the Maker. Prays to the demons. Prays to the Chantry, to the sky. Even the lyrium that still sits in their father’s drawers. Lays worship to anything that has the power to destroy them.

Says, _thank you_. Says, _I hate you_. Says, _bring him back so I can stop bleeding_.

Says, _Heaven has been filled with silence,_

_I knew then,_

_And cross'd my heart with shame._

* * *

 (They are born in The Wilds. Born to dirt and rocks and nothing but the love of two people. They are born free and wish to die that way.)

* * *

 Sometimes Merrill and Anders get into fights.

“Blood mage,” Anders spits. But he is crying all over the room. He reminds them of Bethany in the way he is so ready to be open. To be torn into and hated and loved. Being vulnerable is a nightmare to them. “Tell her, Hawke, tell her what’s wrong.”

“I - ”

Merrill folds her arms, eyes hard. “Abomination. See? Nothing of us is different. We are the same.”

“You make us look bad. You make us look scary. They hate us because of your mess. You're what’s wrong with us.”

“Oh, lethallin. Are you talking to me or yourself? Who are you really hating here?”

Merrill extends her hand to them, the same one where their mage brands are etched into their skin, and tilts her forehead forward until Anders’ eyes flutter closed, resistant but helpless against the affection.

Hawke clears their throat. “My dad used to say that nothing of ours is for them. Nothing of you is for anyone else. It’s just yours. And when you choose to share it, mage or not, it becomes something to be given, not taken. Like water. It’s not a right, but a gift.”

Merrill and Anders stare at them, and they flush. “I’m just saying. Nothing of mine was for you, but now it is. Because you’re my family. All of you. And I don’t want to fight. Blood mage or abomination or elf or dwarf. We share what we have because it’s all we know to give.”

And, when they all press together, Anders whispering his apologies in Merrill’s hair, Hawke breathes in and thinks, oh. oh.

* * *

 The next day, Isabela, Aveline and Varric hug them on the abandoned stairway.

“We love you too, loser.”

“I’m not good at this stuff. But you're the first and best friend I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll make sure to make your character look extra good in the next installment of New Age.”

Family.

* * *

On Carver’s first day of high school, they go to give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turns his head. Kids on the bus jeer out the window.

"Gross. Maker, you're so embarrassing. I don’t want anyone to know we’re related.”

It hurts, but they try to smile. “Okay. Just have a good day.”

“Whatever.” He knocks his way unto the bus, raw and harsh even in his steps.

When Hawke waves through the window as it pulls out, he only stares back.

* * *

The whole group goes to pride.

Everyone is pressed against each other, sweat and the smell of combined magic heavy in the air. Anders is laughing with one of the older healing mages. Varric mock interviewing one of the blood mages at the their booths.

Aveline and Isabela are holding hands, getting their faces painted with mage colors; blue and red.

There are signs with, “Make magic.” and “Free Our Siblings.” There are people selling staffs and robes and caps. Non - mages are there to support their partners, family, friends. It’s beautiful.

Hawke feels lighter with the feeling that they are not alone. Are not forgotten.

* * *

“Excuse me.”

They turn around from where they’d been struggling to unlock the door. Fenris is shifting on the balls of his (very bare) feet. His scars look even more shocking up close. “Are you alright?”

He blinks, nose scrunching in confusion. “Yes. I am fine. I just wondered if you knew what our homework in Physics was.”

“Oh, um, we’re reading pages 80 - 90 and taking notes on them.”

Fenris makes a face that manages to say what the fuck and I want to be dead all at the same time. Hawke can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, it’s pretty gross. Do you want to like, do it together?”

For a second, he’s seems to be readying himself to say yes, but then he glances down at their brand and shakes his head. “I can’t. But thanks.”

“Okay.” They say, because everything is fine and they are going to be okay even if the cute boy who lives next door doesn’t like mages which means he doesn’t like then.

That’s fine. They make it so.

* * *

“I didn’t lose my basic human rights to wrote a four page essay on the history of the Chantry and like get asked to rid someone’s genitalia of chlamydia .”

Isabela chokes on her granola bar. Varric is laughing all over the cafeteria table. “Sweet Maker.”

“Did that genitalia happen to be Isabela’s, by any chance?” Aveline questions. Isabela shoves her so hard she knocks into Anders.

“Ouch. I have delicate shoulders.” Anders rubs his shoulder. “And no, it was one those pretentious templar kids.”

“Gross.”

“Hawke?”

They tilt their head. “Yes?”

“Do you know what you're gonna do after graduation?” Merrill asks hesitantly.

The options are the Circle, going to specialization school to become someone that will benefit society or. Running away. To Tevinter. To Kirkwall.

“I don’t know.” They realize and it’s the most honest thing they’ve ever said.

* * *

Mother is murdered four days after they graduate. Hawke doesn’t cry because they’ve forgotten how to.

Bethany is quiet and Carver even more angry.

“It’s your fault.” He says. And it is. This is what they do to your family when you're a mage. They weed out mothers, fathers, siblings, cousins, friends. Anyone close enough to your heart. Anders parents were killed when he was eight. Merrills’, when she was three.

They take and take and take. It only ends when you let them have you.

“I know.”

Carver’s face crumples. His hands, bigger now, latch on to their arms. He is so young. “I hate you.”

“I know.” They say again, finally. “I love you, brother.”

Hawke doesn’t cry. They’ve forgotten how.

* * *

 And then Ferelden burns.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC


End file.
